


If We Become One and the Same

by weicheidarling



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, At the end if you squint, Azure Moon Route, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, I don't actually really know what to tag this as, I guess???, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, You can also choose to not interpret it that way I guess it's ur choice, feralmitri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weicheidarling/pseuds/weicheidarling
Summary: They both knew Dimitri could crush Sylvain’s long neck in his hands if he so chose. Maybe, Dimitri considered, that was the idea.In which Sylvain helps treat Dimitri's wounds after their reunion
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	If We Become One and the Same

**Author's Note:**

> I recently fleshed this out a little more for reasons and thought it would be fun to post it since I'm actually pretty proud of it even if it's short. I just think it's neat. 
> 
> Do you ever do that thing where a you just listen to a song on repeat hoping it will manifest a title for you somehow? Anyway, I guess this title is vaguely inspired by My Demons by Starset, but if there was some way to make the instrumental last 45 seconds of the song a title, that would be it.

Short of breath and chilled at the edges, Dimitri had managed to hold it together until he slunk away alone to the Cathedral after his violent reunion with his former classmates. He’d taken more than a few hits in his feral skirmish with the bandits, and Dimitri still had wounds healing from his last engagement. 

He’d been reckless. 

The Cathedral felt cavernous and bare after years of war, but moonlight glistened through shattered stained glass, dying everything silver. It was eery, ruminative. It was home — or as close to it as Dimitri deserved. Aching in every muscle and sinew, Dimitri had just barely managed to settle onto the rubble he’s been calling his bed with a heavy groan when the echo of footsteps made him rigid with alertness once more. 

Sylvain was already holding his hand up in defense the way you might toward a rabid beast as he navigated through the overturned pews littering the nave. The other held a bowl on his hip, draped with cloths. “Relax, your Princeliness, it’s just me.” Maybe some deep part of Dimitri could hear the uncertainty in Sylvain’s otherwise lackadaisical tone, but too much of him was a moment away from lunging for his lance just in reach. “You remember your ol’ buddy Sylvain, right?” 

“Leave.” It was a snarl that ripped through Dimitri like a blade. It hurt as much coming out as Dimitri had to hope it did to hear.

Like he hadn’t spoken, Sylvain pressed on undeterred, and Dimitri’s dug his fingers into the rocks beneath him until he heard a crunch. “C’mon now. I brought wound dressings. If you won’t let Mercedes treat you, at least let me clean you up.” 

It only took a moment for Sylvain to sit himself down and get his hands on Dimitri’s armor, muttering to himself questions about how the hell it latched together. He was close enough Dimitri could count each of his burgundy lashes, could smell the soap and horse-scent on him, could sink his teeth into his broad shoulder. 

“I could kill you,” Dimitri offered, grasping for anything to fend off this breach, this intimacy, the whisper of fingers fitting their way into his armor and finally unclasping hidden leather buckles. 

With a wry smile, Sylvain removed plate after plate of Dimitri’s armor. “What? You think I can’t take you?”

Dimitri searched his eyes. There was no humor to be found there, despite how his lips curled around the words. They both knew Dimitri could crush Sylvain’s long neck in his hands if he so chose. Maybe, Dimitri considered, that was the idea. Sylvain’s own self-destructive tendencies on a crash course with Dimitri’s. The fallout would be bloody and colorful. Purple, sunset bruises and fire-red hair.

“You sure don’t make it easy to keep you alive,” Sylvain mused, his smile falling. He wrung out a rag over the bowl to dab at the cut on Dimitri’s chest. 

“No one asked you to,” Dimitri said sharply, baring teeth at how his wounds burned when Sylvain scrubbed at the dried blood.

“It’s a promise I made myself,” Sylvain said. He took Dimitri’s chin in his hand, and though he could rip his head away from the hold, Dimitri met his eyes, jaw working. 

“Five years I looked for you, Dimitri,” Sylvain said, shifting to rub a thumb over Dimitri’s bottom lip, where a split was festering. “I’m not about to let you go now.” 

Dimitri’s body was one with the Cathedral’s rubble, chiseled from carnage like the boulders around them. He was no longer human, a monument to vengeance, to mourning. But Sylvain — who cared not for Faerghus or duty or anything really — had searched for him all the same, and when he moved in, brushed Dimitri’s hair from his face, he knocked Dimitri down with ease.


End file.
